Your Mark

April 16, 2008
By Tess Cooper, Portland, OR

This mark upon my arm,
Is made by man,
A tattoo to show,
Who I was and where I’ve been.
This mark upon my back,
Is made by man,
A scar to show
Who I refuse to be.
And who I fought.
This mark upon my neck,
Is made by me,
A scar to show
What I lost once more, and
Why I want it back.
This mark upon my arm,
Is made by man,
A tattoo to show
Who I am, and where I am.
This mark upon my heart,
Is made by man.
Is made by you.
That’s right, you joined
The ranks of scars that
Crisscross me
Cut me over again,
Wound me each time I feel the skin.
You made the last one,
I will have no one else.
My purpose was to fight,
But now I fight for you and
Only you.
The mark that makes,
Hurts like a scar,
Hurts beautifully so.
The mark that binds,
Shows like a tattoo,
Caresses like a shadow.
Loves so beautifully,
Because it’s yours.


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